billyswiftfoot's profile

The boy had become a preacher. They said when the stool was kicked out from under him a little bit of Steelnose died and a little bit of Steelnose was reborn. The rope was thick and could support 700 pounds but it snapped like a stalk of corn, Steelnose had hung for a breath or two before he fell to his knees, scrabbling around for air. He was lucky that the hangman had been told to let him dangle. They had called for a new rope, Steelnose still lying on the floor panting like a landed fish. ...

Larsson, his jacket streaked with dust and salt clinging to his beard, walked up to the sheriff. “Another man for you, sheriff” he said “You bring him in alive?” the sheriff asked. Larsson shrugged and removed his hat. He looked up at the sheriff. “What do you reckon?” he said. The sheriff blinked slowly and then stood up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. He settled his hat on his head, and fiddled with the gun at his hip, when he was satisfied with his appearance he looked at Lars...

I can see millions of souls stretching out into the distance. Seas of them, rivers of them bleeding into one another. Like streams of light. Like molten metal running through a cast… yes, like molten metal when it flares, sets on fire, flickering flames. And a single soul sometimes stands out, black against the fire, you see it like a shadow or a silhouette. I don’t know what makes them stand out, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re good… but sometimes I’m looking for them. I can’t pick ...